I had been working at this restaurant as the only office staff for accounting, payroll, etc. The owner, Clyde, had a business partner and long time friend, Leon, who was an architect and also owned a lot of rental property in and around the
French Quarter, so often I collected rent from tenants and handled the Leon's clients as well. Leon was old and gay and had a
frou frou dog, like most old gay men have, that he took with him everywhere.
As indispensable as I was to his business, Clyde treated me like shit. He never trusted me and was always suspicious of my accountability at work. After a year I got sick of it and secretly began looking for a new job. Moose, a man who drove a tow truck and also worked for Clyde on the side, told me of a job opening at a Ford dealership that he also towed cars for. That's where I work now. Clyde may have never known who it was that tipped me off to the new job, but he was less than thrilled at my subversive tactics, since I had given him less than proper notice.
After that, Clyde's Lexus came into our shop. He knew I worked there, but I refused to deal with him. I had heard that Leon had finally died and that Clyde was in line for a fat inheritance from the will. While I was sad to hear that, I'm sure Clyde was happier for it. Leon was the source of most the money Clyde had ever had, since Clyde acted as Leon's accountant, filtering Leon's money for his own means.
Moose brought in a wreck late Friday afternoon and I was still at the office. He mentioned that now Clyde was dying of throat cancer. The restaurant I worked in has since gone under, but Clyde is likely still pursuing financial success in the retail/restaurant field somewhere else, flirting with waitresses that are as young as his own daughter and generally being an asshole to anyone who couldn't provide financial equality with him.
My desk in Clyde's office faced the wall, his desk faced the back of my head. When he lit a cigarette, I lit one too, feeling whatever stress was about to hit. So now he's dying. And I can't say I really care. One of the reasons he treated me so badly was because I wasn't a hot, brainless blonde. The girl who replaced me, unfortunately, was and found herself being sexually harassed as part of her job. I had heard somewhere that at some point, he came up behind her and bit her playfully on the ass.
And then you wonder why women hate men.
....Lauryn Hill, from the song "That Thing"